Smeagol the Day Before
by wader321
Summary: A glimpse at the day before the eventful and dark day that Smeagol stole the ring.


Smeagol woke up from his nap under the great tree that stood grandly at the beginning of the wood. The tree was great, great in size and great in its roots that spread to the length of the river and engulfed him in a cradle of long, deep grass. Smeagol gazed at the river and then at the large branches and back to the river. It was a peaceful day and he was not about to disrupt his mood by moving any time soon. The sun was setting and peering through the nearby smaller trees that marked the lane to the wood and Smeagol knew that the warmth would soon leave, yet defiantly he closed his eyes and drifted off.

Was it a dream or was it real what he felt and saw next? There above him in the tree was a man sitting against one of the great branches that extended out. He was sure it was a man because of his dress, but he could not see the face of the man because his back was towards Smeagol and he wore a cloak. He was surprised and thought how long had the man been sitting there? Was he there the whole time that he had been asleep? Why would he be sitting in the tree?

For what seemed like the next ten minutes, Smeagol pretended not to know he had seen the man and had not moved. Now the surprise was turning into alarm. What would a man be doing here in my wood and why is he not moving? Are my eyes playing tricks? He decided to move and see if the man moved. He shifted his position but all the time keeping his eyes on the man. Smeagol knew the manners of men, after all he was part man and of most men he was not afraid. This man, however, struck him as a dark man, one that would not sleep alone in a tree and one that would carry a weapon underneath the long, black cloak.

Enough he thought, this is my wood and I can go about as I please. He arose quietly and moved toward the lane back to his small hut all the time watching to see if the man would move. He did not move and so Smeagol walked across the grass, stepping over the roots and on to the path. Once reaching the path he glanced back and still the man had not moved. "Hmmph", he said, and thought what folly is this? It would not ruin his day, and he turned back to the path and the west and the sun that was gone now and only a glow reflecting of the clouds that had noticeably turned more gray.

The path was long and straight, made straight by his own relations who many years ago had planted trees along a short stone wall that marked his family land. The land was now owned by his Uncle Margol who had inherited the land when his own father had unexpectantly died. Smeagol hadn't cared much for his father. When he died twenty-one years ago, Smeagol viewed it as a pleasant change to having to be bound to working the land. He didn't like to work and he didn't care for the laws of his people that dictated he had to work for his father until he was an age to take over the land. Once his father died, his uncle and cousins took the land and Smeagol was released from his duty. Good, unexpected fortune it was, and he smiled and began to sing and prance as he walked. The song from his father's day and it was one he had grown to like after his father's passing.

_It is good to work the land,_

_It is good to be a son_

_Of a man with many lands_

_Of a man with many good sons_

_Throw in your back _

_To the work ahead _

_Throw in your heart... _

But Smeagol did not finish the line and was startled by the sound of horse's hooves behind him. The sound was coming from the wood. He spun around and saw another man riding a horse that had stopped at the grand tree. The two men were talking loudly to each other and he saw the man in the tree climb down and get on the back of the horse. Just as soon as the man was on the back, they rode away hard, coming straight at him. Smeagol who had been fixed on them now jumped in to action and moved off the path behind one of the trees lining the lane. The alarm he felt before had returned, he knew he should have brought his small dagger that he kept with him on his trips to town. "Just be quiet", he told himself in a whisper, "they are not looking for me".

The men on horseback rode firmly down the lane and then suddenly turned and the horse instinctively jumped the small stone wall. In to his uncle's radish patches they rode until they entered the corn stalks and then the sound of the horse stopped. With the darkness, Smeagol could just barely see the rustling of the corn stalks that too would stop. But then there were more sounds. Smeagol was trying to collect his thoughts, should he run over near the river or stay near the lane? It was darker now and he was sure if he crouched he could make it over to get behind one of the large boulders near the river where he would be more out of site. But he didn't have time to take this course of action as coming from the path in the wood was the sound of more horses. Two, then three riders were coming! He moved his small frame up against the tree to make sure he was hid. The riders flew by him and didn't even seem to glance at his whereabouts but were looking at the river and in to the fields. He breathed a sigh of heavy relief, but did not move until they were out of site. Taking one look at the corn stalks which were now even darker, he crouched and ran to the river. He ran and only looked back a couple of times. His mind was racing now, but he new where he was going and it was not down the lane. He would take the smaller path by the river to his hut, it would take him longer, but it would keep him out of sight. Smeagol had learned a few things over his years, and hiding was one of them.

He arrived at the fence of his hut breathing hard, but did not go in the gate, he did not even get close to the gate, but stayed out by his fence. He climbed over the fence and in to his garden. Glancing at the hut he saw no movement and so he made his way around to the back door all the time listening for any noise. The darkness of the beginning of night had now settled in and there was a half moon that cast shadows over the garden and his small plot of land. He opened the door slowly and then let himself in and shut the door quickly but without any noise. The floorboards creaked but he slowly crept to the simple rug in the middle of the hut and pulled it aside. There he picked up one of the floorboards that wer smaller, exposing a space in the floor and then he moved another full-length floorboard to make even more space. Feeling around the space he kept his eyes looking out the small window and listening for any noise. With two hands, he hefted a small box out of the space and he stood up and placed the box to the table. He sat in the one chair he had and stared at the box. A smile crept across his face. It was a small wooden box, but it was carved with relief figures and had small jewels inserted in its carvings. Such a simple half-man as he would not be expected to have such a treasure. He knew this and it gave him great pleasure. He took a while, mesmerized by the box turning it around and around, examining the details. Its owner would not have appreciated it as much as he. It was his dear to him. Then unbuttoning his shirt he removed a silver chain and key from around his neck. With the key he opened the box revealing the box's contents. The contents were not a few. They were all small, rings, coins, and even a small golden figure, but they did not lack value. Value to him and value to their owners, but they would not miss them, "they were small and would not be missed", he thought to himself. "They mean more to me... Smeagol", he said out loud as he examined more closely one of the rings. It was a gold ring and had an inscription inside. With the moonlight streaming in from the window, he could just make out the writing. He had read it many times. "How many times had he read it?", he thought to himself. "At least everyday for twenty-one years", he observed and smiled.

_To my son Salfom, _it read in tiny inscription. "His father Salfom would not miss it after all he was not around to miss it", he mused and let out an abbreviated laugh.

Just then, he heard a sound outside. Quickly putting the ring back in the box, he locked it and put the chain back around his neck. Replacing the floorboards and rug, he opened the back door slowly with one hand while keeping the box close to him under his arm with the other. Quietly he let himself out. Tonight he would sleep in his secret place in the hollow. He would not sleep as well, but he new it would be safe. Tomorrow he could sleep while he fished with his cousin. He liked fishing with his cousin, although he once tried to take his father's ring. "No one would ever take the box or ring from him... no one!", he exclaimed out loud as he held the box tighter and found his way in to the hollow....


End file.
